Arthur
by ThePointGirl
Summary: Eames writes a little thing about Arthur and thinks about the Point Man who is sitting nine feet away from him.'Eames saw Arthur sitting there reading and Eames wondered what the man would do if he went over and prised the book away from him'...
1. Eames

**Title:** ARTHUR  
**Author:** ThePointGirl  
**Fandom:** Inception  
**Pairing:** Eames & Arthur

**Rating:** R  
**Warnings:** None really but it is _**slash**_.  
**Feedback:** Review or message. (Hint, hint. Thank you)

**Notes: **Well as I said it's slash so don't read it if you only fiction Arthur & Ariadne or something :)

**Disclaimer: **Christopher Nolan (the legend) owns Inception and it's gorgeous male characters: D

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Eames saw Arthur sitting there reading and Eames wondered what the man would do if he went over and prised the book away from him and claimed him at that moment in the warehouse.

Swear? Push him away?.. Give in? The last option was Eames' favorite but he very much doubted it would happen. The debonair body language and style screamed bi-sexual but he wasn't going to tell that to the point man. He has hinted at it, but Arthur has always cut him off some way or another. Eames pulled a bit of lined paper that had removed itself from one of the notebooks he uses, that was floating about the wretched place, and poised his pen at the top line. He then, with a space of one line in between wrote the letters of Arthur's name. Looking at them he looked up at his colleague. The man was sitting on the chair roughly in the middle of the warehouse, legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, sleeves rolled up and a hitch at the side of his pink lips. Arthur was concentrating, and hopefully not fully aware of the stare he was being given. A stare that wasn't exactly... innocent.

Eames started with the first letter of Arthur's name, which is of course A.

_**A**_ is for the aligning of his suits that shape perfectly around a body that no one will ever touch. No one meaning: Eames.

He smirked at that line, it was a little crude for an opening but, well, it's true. Eames wondered where Arthur finds the time to keep his body in shape, he has seen the man fight and blimey he was aware of what Arthur could do if he was really pushed.

_**R**_ is for the redness that creeps around his eyes when he concentrates too hard too long. Eames wished he could just rub and relax that redness away.

That happens alot now, it's getting worse Ariadne pointed it out when he fell asleep when she was talking. She wasn't offended (right ¬_¬) but told Eames about Arthur's sleeping and his working habits. Eames replied with the fact that Arthur is a work a-holic, it's what he is. But Eames wanted to go and stroke his cheek when Arthur was found asleep at his desk. However Cobb gave him a dark look every time he even approached the chair. Talk about defensive.

_**T **_is for the time the man spends seemingly 'tolerating' Eames. Eames only does it to get Arthur's attention. A look, a comment, that's all Eames, wants. But that's something _he_ has with Arthur that Cobb or Ariadne don't.

Eames liked that line, it was pure sense in his mind. Arthur is limited with his time with Eames because either Cobb or Ariadne 'need him' in some way or another. Cobb to make sure things are smooth and to check up on updates with the research. Ariadne because of her designing, the architect needs a details person to make sure they have everything just right. Eames however gets the snippets of time with Arthur, the ones where he sees the agitated (which is not often mind you) Arthur, because the man is around him.

_**H **_is for the hair that is always slicked back. Works with the suits and the attitude. Business before pleasure: definitely Arthur. The dark hair that Eames only imagines is soft and smooth.

Eames is pretty sure that with his hair like that he resembles an elf, but that just made it more adorable. Arthur's cool attitude mixed with Eames' casual flow o life tended to reach boiling points - by which he means that the two clash more than a ballet dancer and a soccer player. They get over it because they are both professionals and when there is a job, they both want their stake of the prize.

_**U **_is for the unaffected, unabashed point man which Eames teases, and delights in the fact that Arthur still carries on, just for Cobb – not him – Cobb.

Again, he carries on. Eames admires that, he helps Cobb because he knows what Cobb wants to get back to. A family. A life. Arthur has stood by Cobb no matter what, even though Eames wished that Arthur would do that for him one time, he marvels at the strength and loyalty that runs through Arthur's veins.

_**R **_is for the racing in Eames' blood stream when Arthur and he fell backward at the blast on a job. Arthur was thrown into Eames and their bodies entangled.

That last line Eames read through again and again. He licked his lips subconsciously and his eyes flicked up to the body in the chair not nine feet or so away. Arthur may have finished what he was reading because he looked up. Straight at Eames. Expressions flowed across his eyes (how Eames noticed from here is part of the reason the man is a forger) and a slight frown planted itself across the top of his brow. Arthur didn't say anything. And Eames looked back to what he had just wrote on that lined paper.

It didn't outline one main thing.

One thing that kept Eames in the same room, on the same job.

The Forger had an undying desire of lust towards The Point Man.

And it was growing.

With everyday.

Every minute.

Every look.

Because...

Arthur… a name, a man, a public school boy's toy ;)

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_If you like it please review, this was finished at 11 : 25 at night... I'm going bye byes now. By the way I am obsessed with Arthur & Eames... it's amazing. :X_


	2. Arthur

**Arthur's view.**

Arthur was picking up files and notebooks to clear up the place, he didn't expect a piece of paper to drop out. Groaning he stooped and snatched it up off the floor. Glancing briefly at the paper he noticed something. It wasn't background notes, it was a poem. Looking up to check who was in the warehouse - no-one. He recognised the handwriting as being Eames'. Arthur read through the poem, and then read it again. This is what it said:**  
**

_Rush of chemicals_

_Through my viens._

_Setting eyesw on you,_

_You were gorgeous._

_Slender and sweet._

_Eyes that burn_

_Like an unruly angel._

_Quiet – so quiet._

_It's not nice this growing sensation._

_But I can't help it._

_Lust. Instant unavoidable lust._

_You bite your lip,_

_Eyes wide._

_I look up and then_

_Down._

_Every job it's what happens._

Arthur jumped out of his skin when a cough sounded. He came face to face with Cobb.

"I'm just clearing up" he stated, as though it wasn't obvious. Cobb smirked - something which Cobb hardly ever did - and Arthur frowned at him.

"Are you reading the little thing Eames scrawled out earlier" Cobb asked.

"How do you know that - I am starting to believe Cobb, you have special powers" Arthur said shifting the wieght of the files in his arms and making a face and the uncomfortable position he was standing in.

"I saw it earlier. So-"

"So" Arthur repeated.

"What do you think, are you offended?" he asked and Arthur was extremely confused, he showed it in his face. Cobb walked slowly towards him.

"No - it's a good poem. I mean the grammar's off but then that's modern poetry for you" Arthur responded. Cobb's eyebrows knitted together.

"You're commenting on the grammar, not on the subject of the poem?" Cobb asked incredulously.

"Well - it's Eames"

"You're justifying Eames' poem about you, by saying simply 'it's Eames'?" Cobb asked. Arthur's eyes went wide. The poem was about him? He read it again _slender and sweet? _or _eyes that burn? _was that really him? A ringing sound echoed around the blanked out warehouse. Cobb reached inside his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. He answered with a smile.

"Hello Eames"


	3. Arthur at Eames'

"_Hello Eames" Cobb said_

Arthur's eyes remained wide and he sent a confused look to Cobb whose expression was back to normal.

"What do you mean you don't feel well? You're ill? Oh for god's sake –"Cobb said and Arthur frowned at the conversation he could only hear one part of. "Okay, fine. You're doing some reading then. What?" Cobb looked at Arthur who backed away as if Cobb was going to hit him. "Arthur do you have the Jesenger file?" and Arthur looked through the files in his arms. He did. Dammit. Nodding Cobb said into the phone: "Arthur will drop it around for you. You better be well tomorrow" Cobb said sounding like a father to a son and he ended the conversation. The man's certainty that Arthur would comply with the request was interesting. But then, with Cobb, it's never a request it's an order.

"Cobb-"Arthur began.

"Have a good night Arthur, see you tomorrow morning" and he left leaving Arthur alone with many beige files and that piece of paper in Eames' handwriting.

Roughly about ten minutes after he left the warehouse Arthur was standing outside Eames' rented apartment. On the outside it looked like all the others. He knocked on the door with the file in hand. He was just going to give Eames the file and go. He wasn't going to ask about the poem. He wasn't. It wasn't professional. The door opened and Arthur looked at Eames. The man looked the same as always except he was perhaps a little paler, and less jovial.

"Hello darling, got the file?" he asked, his voice sounded tired.

"No I thought I'd just come and visit you out of the purity of my heart" Arthur said sarcastically. Eames threw him a grin and held the door open wide enough for two people.

"Much appreciated" Eames said. Arthur thought about it for a second, and then went inside anyway. After all Eames didn't look that infectious.

"What do you have anyway?" Arthur asked, not realising he still held the file.

"Hangover" Eames said honestly. Arthur frowned.

"You said you were-"

"Yes I know have you ever had a hangover Arthur. Not the thing you tell Cobb, especially if the man is your supply of income" Eames said dryly. Arthur smirked. "if you tell Cobb I will chase you around the world and back"

"I won't. He's not the best person to be around when he's pissed off" Arthur said and Eames mumbled something like: I'll bet.

"Hate to be demanding but can I have the file?" Eames asked and Arthur looked down at the beige folder in his hands. Handing it over he suddenly remembered that the poem Eames had written was inside. He had stuck it in there instead of holding it. Eames spotted the now crumpled bit of paper as not part of the information.

"I was sure I put this-"he began quietly and Arthur cleared his throat.

"I found it, thought you'd want it back" he lied fluently, sounding innocent. As though he didn't know that the poem was about him.

"Thank you. It's a piece of nonsense anyway" Eames let it float onto his kitchen table without a blink.

"Nice wording, didn't know you had it in you Eames" he said.

"Guess so. It's hard to word out someone as stoic as you, mind" Eames said as he read the information in the file. Arthur watched him close his eyes in an 'oh shit' moment. "You can forget I just said that"

"Hm- well you know Eames that the conscious mind takes months to submerge information into the subconscious and –"

"I know, that" Eames leaned against the counter – closing the file and putting it next to him. "I used to be good at English when I was at school – don't look at me like" Arthur smirked, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Wouldn't have thought anything less: from a man that talks non-stop" Eames rolled his eyes.

"Do you want a drink?" Eames asked rubbing his stomach. Arthur nodded.

"Looks like you need a strong cup of coffee Eames"

"I've drunk about nineteen. Doesn't beat the stuff Yusuf gets abroad. Sometimes I am under the impression he douses it with a mixture of his chemicals" Eames said as he padded around the counter and began looking in his cupboards for ingredients. Arthur was surprised that Eames was fairly organised. Then again the man spends less and less time at home, more time out in Mombasa or Dubai.

"Why do you think that?" Arthur asked and he propped himself on a bar stool.

"Because he gave Ariadne a cup and the poor girl's eyes glazed over" Eames muttered. Arthur raised his eyebrows; the coffee hadn't had a lasting effect on her it seemed.

"Luckily just made her a bit tired – after about an hour she was back to her usual peppy self" Eames remarked and he hit the coffee maker and the button flashed red. "Arthur could you do me a favour – in the living room there's a white cup, can you fetch it for me?" he asked with a smile. Arthur nodded.

"As your hung over" Arthur murmured and he walked into Eames' living room. It was interesting; less organized than his kitchen, but was fit for purpose. Funnily enough Arthur felt strangely at home and calm in Eames' home, not out of place or odd. Spotting the cup he picked it up quickly but Eames' DVD collection caught his eye. Moving closer to read the titles he scanned the collection that was arranged on the ebony shelf. He recognised half of the names. Eames didn't have as bad a taste as Arthur would have other wised imagined.

"You like Flight Arragon?" Arthur asked loud enough for Eames to hear in the kitchen without sounding rude.

"Hm? Yes. Why?" was the reply he received?

"Just wondering" and the Englishman said something that just sounded like: 'Knew you would be surprised' which caused Arthur to let out a chuckle. Turning on his heels to walk back to the kitchen, Eames' blackberry vibrated on the table. Eames hadn't asked him to get it. Out of curiosity he glanced at the caller ID – it could have been Cobb. But then why would he ring Eames and not Arthur? Looking at the caller ID he saw it wasn't Cobb it was someone called Samantha?

Who's Samantha?

"Arthur – have you died, you're awfully quiet?" Eames came slowly into view. He looked really tired and the fluids in his body had drained him. "Coffee's ready. Can I have the cup?" he asked. Arthur held out the cup.

"Your blackberry's ringing" and Eames looked at the table. Passing Arthur he picked it up.

"Oh Samantha" he had heard Eames put emphasis on names like that before.

He wasn't jealous – why would he be jealous, the idea was ridiculous.

The comfort he had felt minutes before- edged. Wandering back into the kitchen he drank here coffee, waiting for Eames to come back.


End file.
